


Sherlock and Shamrocks

by Martina



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drinking, Love, Lust, M/M, Party, St Patrick's day, Stripping, just saying, martin freeman is made of kittens, mrs Hudson is amazing, not really - Freeform, ship - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 15:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Martina/pseuds/Martina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly Hooper has a St. Paddy's day party! John Watson wears yet another kitten sweater, and Sherlock Holmes is forced to wear new clothes. </p><p>People will admit to anything under the right circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock and Shamrocks

"It's Saint Patrick's day, Sherlock! Surely you must have something planned?" 

"Oh, Mrs. Hudson, you know I don't. Such parties are..." Sherlock Holmes paused, searching for the perfect word. 

"Beneath you?" John Watson interjected, stepping out of his bedroom in full St. Paddy's day attire. True to his style, he sported a wonderfully tacky green knitted sweater which featured a kitten dressed as a leprechaun. 

"No, not beneath me!" Sherlock snapped, refusing to let himself enjoy how adorable John looked in those ridiculous clothes. "Just, not on the top of my priority list. I have far more important things to do." To prove his point, he strode over to his violin and picked it up, playing some fancy sonata that no one recognized. 

"No you don't, you're coming to Molly's party with me," John stated matter-of-factly, straightening out his sweater. 

"Molly Hooper?" Sherlock asked incredulously, putting an abrupt stop to his violin playing. "Molly doesn't throw parties, John, don't be silly."

"Yes, she does, and she's having one tonight. It starts at 7, you have thirty minutes to get ready. I'll throw you into the cab myself if I have to," the doctor threatened, hoping his order would be heeded. Not that John minded manhandling Sherlock Holmes. Quite the opposite. But still, it would be nice if Sherlock would agree to something for a change. 

"And what do I need to do to 'get ready'," Sherlock asked in irritation. He never changed clothes, really. A shirt, pants, a purple scarf and that big black trench coat were all he needed. Even in the spring when it started to warm up, he refused to shed the heavy clothes. 

"I don't know, Sherlock, maybe try wearing something green?" John scoffed, knowing very well that someone like Sherlock Holmes, perfectionistic genius detective, knew that you have to wear green on a day like this. 

"But purple brings out my eyes better than green," complained the detective, feigning indignance. 

John had to agree with that. Sherlock looked absolutely perfect in his chosen uniform. In fact, he looked so perfect in those clothes that, occasionally, John Watson doubted his own sexuality. He couldn't refute accusations of a relationship between him and Sherlock for much longer, not at the rate he was being attracted to the sexy genius of his flatmate. 

"Will you come or not?" He asked shortly, tired of his friend's sarcasm. 

"Yes, fine, I'll go to your party," Sherlock agreed with a heavy sigh. "I'm done with this conversation," he declared, returning to his violin. 

He knew that if he faced the window, John couldn't see the smile appear on his mouth. 

 

Thirty minutes passed quickly. Sherlock Holmes had spent all of it playing his violin, and had not bothered to change into something green. 

"Take this, we're leaving," John called, throwing a green t-shirt at the violinist. 

"You expect me to wear this?" Sherlock asked flatly, removing the shirt from his instrument. 

"Yes, get changed, the cab's outside."

John couldn't put into words the sense of victory he felt when Sherlock begrudgingly began to unbutton his coat to change. He supposed that a bedroom would've been the best place to change one's clothes, but Sherlock apparently had other plans. Apparently the living room, right in front of John Watson, was a better location. 

The doctor tried to ignore the hardness in his trousers as Sherlock stripped before his eyes. He'd gotten pretty good at ignoring it over the past few months. But there's always a point where ignoring something just doesn't work anymore. 

"John, are you staring at me?" Sherlock asked with a smirk as he pulled off his simple black shirt to replace it with the green one. 

"No, of course not," he lied, turning around to walk down the stairs. 

 

The cab ride to Molly's party was silent. John still had a very persistent erection, fueled by memories of a smirking, shirtless Sherlock Holmes. The detective sat beside his partner, fully aware of the other man's arousal. But he said nothing. 

He never said anything in those situations, even though they were quite frequent. 

 

Molly Hooper's residence was suprisingly full of partygoers, all decked out in lush green. The hostess had been right at the door to greet the two newcomers, hugging Sherlock affectionately and giving a warm handshake to John Watson. 

"Please, do come in, boys," she insisted, ushering them in to the main living room, which was full of dancing and loud music. Each of them grabbed a beer and automatically retreated to the small dining room, where it was far quieter. 

John looked the best in this lighting, Sherlock decided. The small, dim chandelier above them mixed with the general green tint to the whole house were very complementary on the war veteran. His eyes, normally a grey-blue, absorbed the color around them, and now looked like emeralds set into John's small, round face. These emeralds enchanted Sherlock, drawing him nearer to Watson than he ever remembered being before. 

He realized then that John Watson was staring at him again. He did that a lot, Sherlock knew. But this time... It was slightly different. A little more emotional, more desire behind it. He wasnt sure how he felt about being looked at like this. It was a pleasant feeling, but John was his business partner of a sort, his right hand man. Was it right to be attracted to a business partner?

"Which girl are you going to take home tonight, John?" Sherlock asked, breaking their silent moment. 

"I- umm... What?" 

"Oh please, you were staring at at least seven different women in that living room. You even smiled at that brunette in the short pink skirt, didnt you?"

"You know I hate it when you do that Sherlock!" John said in defense of his privacy. But even as he said it, he knew he'd given up privacy when he agreed to move into 221 Baker Street. He sighed in defeat when Sherlock's only reply was a raised eyebrow. "I don't know, Sherlock, I haven't decided yet."

"But you want to get one of them, correct?" Inquired the detective, refusing to drop the subject. 

"Why do you even care?"

"I'd like to know whether I'm going to have to listen to you and some girl going at it all night," Sherlock explained, seemingly exasperated that he had to spell it out. 

"I'll let you know at the end of the night," Watson returned, taking a long drink from his beer to control his frustration. 

"I wish you would know sooner," Sherlock muttered under his breath, loud enough that he knew his friend would hear him. John hated when Sherlock used that tone. For some reason, it made him completely irresistible. 

"Do you know why I have so many women, Sherlock Holmes?" John shouted, feeling his erection return when he saw Sherlock's expression. It was one he knew well- the face the detective wore when asked a very simple question. For whatever reason, it made Sherlock look incredibly smart and suave and utterly attractive. 

"Of course I do," the detective said easily. "You feel a base need to have as many women as possible because your sister is a lesbian and you feel like you need to prove your heterosexuality. Also because you're short, it's classic overcompensation, John. Elementary stuff, honestly, I don't know why you bother asking me questions anymore," he finished with a chuckle, enjoying the frustrated defeat on John's lovely face. 

"You, Sherlock Holmes, are wrong," John challenged quietly, his eyes on the bright green t-shirt, picturing what lie beneath it. 

"Excuse me?" The detective asked, genuinely interested. 

"The reason I have so many girlfriends is," here John took a deep breath, struggling to phrase his next words correctly. "Is because I can't have the one person I really want," he admitted finally, bravely looking Sherlock in the eye. 

"Oh," Sherlock gasped, half suprised and half ecstatic. "And who would that be?" He asked gently, hoping he knew the answer. 

"Do you need to ask, Sherlock?" John said quickly, beginning to regret his subtle admittance of love. 

The detective took a long pause, figuring a few things out. He searched his memories, remembering looks of longing in his partner's eyes, remembering how John had shot a man to save Sherlock's life, thinking of the steadfast, unconditional loyalty John always showed him. And, of course, remembering all the unrecognized erections John only seemed to get in the presence of Sherlock Holmes. 

"No, I don't think I do," Sherlock said. "You were staring at me before, weren't you?"

"Yes," John muttered, fumbling nervously with the bottle in his hands. 

Sherlock decided that he was jealous that a green glass bottle was getting more attention than himself, so he reached over and took it out of John's grasp, setting it down on the dining table beside them. 

"Don't be embarrassed, John," Sherlock cooed, using a voice Watson had never heard before. "I stare at you too," he admitted, lifting up his partner's chin so he could look into those emerald green eyes once again. 

He wasn't sure why he did it, but Sherlock found himself pulling John's face closer to himself, and soon he didn't have to do any work anymore. John Watson threw his arms around Sherlock Holmes and kissed him, kissed him harder than he'd ever kissed any woman. Their lips worked perfectly together as both men fought for dominance. John eventually gave in, allowing Sherlock to slide his tounge into his mouth, allowing Sherlock to take him over. 

Sherlock Holmes had, over just the past several months, been come to be recognized as one of the greatest geniuses of all time, possible the best detective in history. He had been inside Buckingham palace and he had won the heart of Irene Adler. He had impressed his brother and saved the life of Mrs. Hudson. 

Never in his life had he been so happy and he was kissing John Watson. 

And he knew that this first kiss would definitely not be the last. This was the beginning of a whole new kind of partnership, one that Sherlock Holmes was very excited to try.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I don't know if England celebrates St Patricks day like this, I'm from California. 
> 
> But regardless, I was talking to a friend about Johnlock stuff and then this story just kind of... Happened. So yeah, I hope you like it:)


End file.
